


Imagine A Safe Place

by makoredeyes



Series: Synthetic Mind, Synthetic Body: Human Soul [1]
Category: Titanfall
Genre: Alien Artifacts, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Psychological Horror, Radiation Sickness, Sickness, Simulacrum - Freeform, don't touch that damnit!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makoredeyes/pseuds/makoredeyes
Summary: Harmony is safe, BT will be alright. Jack doesn't feel so good. Something is wrong.Warning! graphic scenes of gore





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok FYI this fic is going to get pretty nasty in a gorey sort of way so if that's not your thing bring a blankie....

                Jack Cooper gazed out the transport window, soaking in the lovely glow of the planet Harmony.  He closed his eyes, heaving a long, relieved sigh.  Only a few short hours earlier, Harmony had been on the brink of annihilation. As had Jack.  Instead, he and BT had been lauded as heroes.  He pressed his forehead to the window, letting its coolness soothe his steadily strengthening headache.  At his side, his helmet flickered again, and he lifted it up to cradle it against himself, hugging it.

                “Don’t worry, Buddy.” He murmured, uncertain as to whether BT could hear him or not, but entirely positive that the AI was in there. Minutes after he had finally settled in his seat, he had noticed the flashing signal, and had confirmed with a comms expert that the flashing meant something.  BT had been calling to him.  “We’re going to get you out of there as soon as we’re planetside.”  He lowered his head back to the window, exhausted.

                “You okay, Coop?” Someone called from across the aisle. Jack lifted his head, blinking back at the other soldier. His eyelids were hot on his eyes.

                “Yeah, just…pretty wiped out, yanno?”  His compatriot laughed.

                “Heh, yea I guess so!” Jack smiled indulgently and slid into slumber, hugging his helmet to himself.

 

                He awoke on reentry, the turbulence shaking him awake with a jolt.  Jack’s mind tumbled as he tried to grasp what was happening, and where he was.   Memories collided, shaking him harder than the rattling ship around him, and he groaned, doubling over to spew a puddle of bile between his heels.  Someone next to him swore, and a reassuring hand fell on his shoulder as he heaved a second time, only to come up empty.  He sat back, wiping his face, and clamped his eyes shut against the jarring motions.   Despite everything, he slipped from consciousness once again.

 

                Someone was shaking him by the shoulder, and Jack sat upright with a shout, recoiling defensively.  His vision cleared as the fellow Pilot leapt back, wary of Jack’s potential to lash out, fresh from the battlefield as he was.  Jack sagged, defenses dropping at the sight of the friendly uniform.  The other man tilted his torso to one side, head canted as he gave Jack a concerned look.

                “You doing alright, Pilot?”  Jack recoiled as the other man reached out, brushing his knuckles against Jack’s sweat-coated forehead.  “You look like you’ve got a fever cookin’.” The Pilot added, his eyes crinkled at the corners with concern.  Jack blinked blearily.  The man’s voice was familiar.

                “That would explain the headache…” Jack mused.  The other pilot agreed, nodding, and stuck a hand out to Jack.

                “Lieutenant Freeborn.  You and BT saved my ass from a bunch of Scorches” Jack took his hand, becoming taken aback as Freeborn levered him to his feet instead of shaking his hand properly. The Lieutenant grimaced faintly. Jack’s hands shook and his palms were sweaty.  “How bout I show you where Medical is, huh?”  He offered.  Jack hesitated, and his companion frowned.  “Hey, I saw you dump your cookies on reentry,” Freeborn pressed. “It’s probably just shock, but you shouldn’t have to endure the woozies when they can give you something to fix it right up.”   As if reminded, Jack’s stomach twisted unhappily, threatening more heaving.  Jack nodded.

                “Yeah, maybe.  I appreciate it.”  He wobbled after Freeborn, but hesitated again. “Hey…” The Lieutenant paused, looking back at Jack. “Mind showing me to Engineering first?” He held up his helmet, which was flickering again.  “I think…” He lowered it back down to cradle it against his abdomen. “I think BT’s in here.”  Freeborn’s eyes lit up happily.

                “Seriously?” He exclaimed, a broad smile stretching over his features. “Aww, that’d be so great if BT made it too!” Jack whole heartedly agreed.

 

                Jack left Medical two hours later with a bottle of pills in hand, an inconclusive diagnosis, and a week-long medical leave.  Whatever he’d been given had soothed the headache and nausea somewhat.  What he needed, he was told, was a proper meal and a good, long nap.  Jack didn’t disagree.  Still, he passed back by the Engineering Center as he headed for the Cafeteria, and he couldn’t help but stop, poking his head in.

                “Cooper!”  Several technicians stopped what they were doing and saluted. Jack grimaced. News traveled fast. _Really_ fast.  He didn’t like the attention, regardless of its positivity.  Everyone knew his face and his name, when the day prior, he had been an absolute nobody.  He stepped the rest of the way through the door, smiling sheepishly. He returned the salute, unsure of how else to handle it. 

                “You were right!” To one side, a fairly petit young woman smiled broadly at him. He blinked rapidly, stunned by the sight of the woman’s long, unkempt, and alarmingly neon pink hair.  He’d recognize Commander Briggs’ Chief Mechanic anywhere. Right now, however, the sight of her made his headache throb in protest.  She tossed his helmet back at him as he turned to face her.  Sluggish with fatigue, he barely caught it. “Your Titan was in there alright. Clever little shit, that one.”

                Jack straightened up, energized by a burst of delight.

                “Really? Were you able to recover him?” She must have, from her smile. She nodded.

                “Yup.  AI data all intact. But a lot of his subroutines got scrambled. It’s gonna be a real bitch to get the poor fella defragged.” She shrugged. “Once we know he’s stable and everything’s A-O-Kay, we’ll re-upload him into a new Datacore for ya.”   She tossed her hair, looking smug. “For now, he’s quarantined on a safe drive.”  Jack nodded, torn between the joy of knowing that BT was alright, and the disappointment of not being able to see him right away.  It must have shown on his face because the Mechanic’s expressive face softened dramatically.

                “Don’t worry, Cooper,” one of the other Technicians said reassuringly. “Miss Veauxver’s going to take care of him and you’ll be back in action in no-time.” He gestured to the pink haired woman with a warm smile.  “She’s crazy, but she’s the best.”

                “Hey!”

                Jack chuckled, edging back out of the lab to let the good people do their work. Veauxver called after him as he left.

                “Come back in three days, Coop! We’ll have him by then no-problem!”  Jack waved as he left, and made his tired way to the mess hall.

                Once there, however, he found the smell of food was monumentally unappealing. His stomach rolled uncomfortably and he turned on his heel and left, without ever entering.  He hobbled back to the barracks, deciding that his best option was sleep.

                His bed was the same rigid, uninviting cot as anyone’s, but it felt nearly divine as he sank into it gratefully, and he barely had time to roll and kick his boots off before sleep overcame him.

                Jack slept off the rest of the day, and the one that followed, with only brief periods of wakefulness.  Someone had left a pile of ration bars by his bed, alerting him that his cohorts had noticed his inactivity, but he couldn’t be bothered to have more than a few bites before laying back down and returning to sleep.  Awake, his head hurt, his skin crawled on his bones, and he missed BT.  It wasn’t worth getting up for.

 

                “Hey. You dead?”

                Jack peeled his eyes open, the feminine but somewhat nasally voice interrupting his latest departure from the land of the waking.

                “’Cause…you look dead.” She went on. It took Jack’s eyes way too long to focus, but he thought he saw a big pink blur, and combined with the distinctive voice, he was certain it was probably the Head Mechanic.   He’d forgotten her name.  He rubbed his face, grimacing as a sore on his chin split, bleeding slightly, and sat up.  “Jeezus,” She commented, stepping back.  “Cooper you really need to eat something, you look like a ghost.” Her voice lacked her usual exuberance, concern sobering her.  Jack shrugged, reaching over groggily to retrieve one of the rations at his bedside and ripped it open with quivering hands.  He took a bite, and grimaced around it.  With effort, he swallowed.  Setting the rest aside, he retrieved the dwindling bottle of pills and swallowed three dry.   At long last, he turned his bleary gaze properly on the mechanic.  “We’ve got BT’s AI all ready and are gonna install him in a modified Stalker frame so he can accompany you while they rebuild a proper chassis for him.” She said at last. “If you wanna come see…”  Jack brightened, sitting up a little straighter.

                “Yeah…” He stood, kicking his boots back on. He realized he was still in his fatigues from Typhon. He paused. “I’ll ahh…. Catch up,” He said, chagrined. “Shower first.”

                “Oh thank god,” She said, smiling crookedly.  “You know where to find us.”

 

                Jack stood in the shower, scrubbing at his arms.   He itched, and the skin on his arms was an angry red.  He knew he should have at least changed.  He had been utterly filthy, and sleeping for three days in war-grime had obviously not done him any favors.  The feeling wasn’t leaving him, and he scrubbed roughly until a few spots on his wrists bled.  Realizing he’d overdone it he finally quit, but it was difficult.  His bones felt swollen, and he felt like his skin could peel right off of them.  He dressed, pulling his sleeves down over the red, angry skin, and headed to Engineering.

                He was greeted by the same Mechanic, the woman pressing a piece of fruit into Jack’s hands as he approached her. He glanced down, startled.

                “Eat.” She barked the order and he snorted out a soft laugh.

                “Uh, thanks, uh….?”  He never had heard her first name, and her last one was hard. He’d forgotten it.

                “Mu.”

                Jack blinked, confused.

                “Moo?”

                “Mu. Short for Muniya, but if you call me that, I’ll break your face.  Now c’mere… and _eat_ that, goddamnit!”  Jack trailed after her, taking a bite of the fruit obediently.  His stomach protested, but he continued anyway, aware he needed _something_ in him.   Across the room, a Stalker frame was laid out on a table, a myriad of lines and wires tethered to it.  He rubbed one arm with the other, the sight making him shudder. He’d had too many unhappy run-ins with those things, very recently.

                “In that?” He asked, uncertain.  Mu turned, one eyebrow raised.

                “Yea, I know they’re kinda creepy but it’ll be different with your Buddy in there. Trust me.”  Jack twitched. He didn’t like people asking for his Trust anymore.  In fact, first chance he got, he and BT were going to have a little _talk_.  She reached behind the head, audibly flipping a switch. “I’m booting him up now.   Keep in mind it may take him a moment to recognize you while all of his systems initialize fully.”

                The Stalker sat up with a rattle, and immediately bleated out something that went by too fast for Jack to follow.

                “What?” He asked, and it turned and stared at him, optic bright.

                “ _Jack Cooper.  Language processors corrupted, reinstall required_ ,” BT said, slower.

                “Ugh! What the hell?!” Mu cried, digging her fingers into her scalp in frustration.  “I’m sorry Jack, it’s going to be a while before we figure out what the problem is.”

                “What?” Jack blinked.  Behind her, BT was repeating himself insistently. “But he just said his language processor was corrupted… do you mean you have to find out how it happened?”  The mechanic blinked.

                “What?”  She glanced over at BT.

                _“Error:24566-1 Corruption of Language Processors.  Reboot required. Error:24566-1”_

                “How…you can understand him?” She asked, stunned. 

                “What?” Jack frowned. “You heard him.” He gestured helplessly towards BT, shooting the bot an apologetic face.  Mu tilted her head curiously, staring in awe.

                “It’s binary.  All I hear is noise, I can’t decipher that.”

                A wave of dizziness struck Jack, and he swayed on his heels.  He was stunned.

                “Um.” He rubbed his arms again, scratching at his wrists where they weren’t covered by his sleeves. “He said ‘Error two-four-five sixty six dash one.  Corruption of Language Processors’.”  The woman was giving him a shifty look, but nodded, reaching over and gently switching BT back into stasis and helping to lay the frame back out on the table.  He could feel the stares from the rest of the staff, but refused to turn and look.

                “Okay. We can fix that.” She tipped her chin towards one of the techs. “You heard him. Don’t try to repair those drivers, just scrub them and install new ones.” She turned her attention back on Jack, bright blue eyes sharp.  “Try again tomorrow, and thanks for the help.” Jack nodded, turning. “And Jack?” He paused, looking back. She nodded to his hands. “You’re bleeding.”  Jack glanced down at his wrists, only now noticing that his cuffs were stained with dark blood.  He swore under his breath and hurried out.

 

                Walking back to the barracks, Jack thrice caught himself picking at his skin.  He stopped, resolutely pushing up his sleeves to have a better look. Something wasn’t right.

                Deep welts, all of them oozing dark, thick blood, latticed across his wrists and hands.  Jack frowned. Those hadn’t been there an hour ago. Blisters were forming over his arms as well. He scowled, and pinched at a blister, only for it to break away from the back of his hand, peeling away a long strip of skin with it.  Jack stared in speechless horror at the pink muscle and yellow tendons of his hand.  The nausea he had been fighting took over, and he emptied his stomach over his own shoes.  He staggered, his vision blurring as shock struck him, and he slipped in his own mess.  He toppled, and the force of impact burst several more lesions on his arms, causing his shirt to spot with black spots. He stared at the blood blooming through the cotton in dismay, trembling against the waves of nausea and disorientation.  He worried he would black out. 

                Slowly, carefully, he climbed to his feet, and began a staggering, lurching trek to Medical.

                He almost made it. His wrists were gushing blood where his cuffs chaffed the suddenly frost-fragile skin, and he could see fresh blooms of blood coming out in clusters through the fabric over his thighs and shins. His vision was graying out at the edges, and something was running down his cheek.  The horrifying thought crossed his mind that it might be an eye, and what inner strength he was holding onto to stay conscious finally failed him, Jack’s psyche overcome with aversion to the mortifying events. He collapsed in the entryway to the medical bay, eliciting startled screams from a pair of nurses nearby, and with a certain sense of relief, slipped from consciousness.

               

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More warnings of graphic...horrible things, and a really bad trip.

BT-7274’s metallic footfalls thundered through the hallways as he put his best effort into running. He had barely been reinitialized when Miss Veauxver was receiving an urgent call and telling him he needed to go now. She hadn’t needed to tell him twice. He’d already known something was wrong with Jack, had seen it himself before they got his processors all straightened out.   
BT had barely been cognizant at the time of Jack’s visit, able to identify his friend yes, but do very little else. Now he replayed the footage he had of those short few minutes, and something very much like dread settled into his core. There was always the chance that human could learn to interpret Binary just like any of the other thousands of languages they were capable of learning, but BT was certain one could not do so in three short days. That was puzzling, but the blood…   
Why was Jack bleeding? His hands had been a mess, his sleeves spotted, and he hadn’t seemed to be aware of it at all. BT struggled to lengthen his stride, displeased for the first time in his three long years of existence at the inherent slowness of the Stalker frame.   
Speed is relative, and BT made it to the Medical Wing after only a few minutes. He erupted through the entry, startling a half dozen people waiting or working. He pointedly ignored one particular soldier with his arm in a sling who clearly –loudly- was not expecting to see a Stalker frame. Several people scattered from his pathway, but one man in a nurse’s uniform held his ground as BT approached him.  
“BT-7274?” He asked. He was polite, but there was no warmth to his words. His face was strained, stressed.  
“Affirmative.” BT drew to a stop just out of arm’s length of the man, and straightened up. Even in the significantly smaller frame, he still towered over everyone. The nurse, thankfully, did not appear to be intimidated.  
“Good. It would appear you’re the only one here who knows him personally at all.” If he thought calling in Cooper’s Titan was odd, he concealed it well. “Mister Cooper is this way…” BT was lead to the far end of the ward, into an isolated ICU unit. Inside was only one stretcher in the room, and over a dozen men and women in lab coats, all of their efforts and attention dedicated to one man. Jack was unconscious, arms visibly bandaged and his body tethered to several monitors through wires and sensors. Giving a cursory glance at them, BT concluded that he was, for the time being, stable. BT quietly ran a scan of his own, anyway.  
“It appears,” a doctor spoke up, noticing BT. “To be textbook radiation poisoning, but we cannot detect any forms of radiation.” BT let his scan go on in the background and turned his full attention on the man speaking. “If he had been exposed to radiation strong enough to make him ill, we should be able to identify it in his system, but there’s nothing there. We’re entirely baffled.” BT thought on this.  
“He was still within my chassis when battle damage exposed my core,” He informed.  
“It wasn’t you.” BT had to admit it was reassuring to hear. “We’d be able to identify it,” the Doctor went on, “and besides, you Titans are built very specifically to not put the Pilots at risk, even if the core is exposed. He’d have to literally get inside the inner casing to be exposed to dangerous levels.” BT’s scan had completed, the data burst momentarily distracting him as he processed it as well as the doctor’s words. It was not radiation, but there was a distinct and powerful energy permeating Jack’s body. The two sources of information meshed together seamlessly, the sudden realization dawning on BT.  
“The Ark.” BT said. The doctor frowned. “The energy source that powered the Fold Weapon was an unidentified alien artifact.” He turned, looking back at Jack. “We didn’t have time to consider if it was safe to approach. Jack experienced direct contact with it on multiple occasions.” He watched as a red lesion on the man’s face split suddenly, oozing viscous, coagulated blood. “You wouldn’t have any means of identifying its energy signature here, but I can confirm his body is soaked with it.”   
“He’s not going to survive long,” another doctor pitched in. Her gaze was sympathetic. “His cells are rotting. There’s nothing we can do.”   
“Have you attempted a memory backup?” BT asked. Jack’s body might have been doomed but they were not out of options yet.  
“Simulacrum?” She asked, taken aback. “Only the IMC have ever been successful…”  
“He’s dying. What do we have to lose?” BT queried, and she blinked, glancing back at the other man who had been addressing BT.   
“I’m not sure our processors are powerful enough,” he began.  
“Mine are.” BT said, stubborn. He understood their reluctance but he wasn’t going to back down. His friend was dying, and it was a direct result of commands BT himself had given. “I am off duty. I am free to assist for the duration.” The doctor nodded in acceptance.  
“Very well, then.” 

 

Jack tumbled, screaming without sound. The void around him burned as it swallowed him whole, its searing white light cooking through is eyelids and hollowing out his retinas. His skull felt like it had split open, and he could imagine his brains spilling out like ashes. Memories tumbled out as his mind unraveled. His childhood, with toy airplanes and his mother’s laugh, and that fat kid that lived in the next home over, mingled with sex in a back alley, a bullet wound. He watched an entire galaxy fold in half and implode around him and then he was sitting on a rock, here on Harmony, teaching himself to use the Jump Kit, speaking in Tai Lastimosa’s voice. Stars were born, died, reborn. A stampede of alien livestock he couldn’t identify ran by. It became Tai’s Gauntlet. When he noticed he wasn’t himself any longer, the world tipped sideways and everything slid away, vanishing into darkness. They fell alongside the stones and the pavers, and a landslide of guns and ordinance. They looked down, and a giant ring of fire opened up to swallow them. An infinite number of Jacks screamed. 

“Shit!”   
BT looked up from his console as across the room alarms began to sound from every monitor.   
“Clemens, report!”   
BT redirected his focus to his work. He was concerned for Jack, yes, but time was running out and he had to stay focused.   
“I don’t know what’s happening, sir!”  
“Read the goddamn monitors that’s what they’re for!” There was an electric crackle and then loud pop. BT detected smoke, and he glanced back again. One of the monitors closest to Jack had exploded.  
“What the hell?!” Another screen burst, and all at once, Jack sat up and emitted a garbled, inhuman and static-laced scream. The lights flickered. Jack heaved in a long breath and continued, and BT could detect code in the sound, but could not interpret it. The data was definitively alien. Several people were shouting to each other over the noise and there was a loud crash as something toppled. He checked his screen one more time – progress was to 90% - and hurried over to the gurney.   
Jack’s skin was erupting in lesions, bloodlessly splitting open and sloughing away and BT could detect a tremendous rise in the body’s temperature. The man’s face was a death mask, eyes wide open and unseeing, jaw open taut well past it’s normal range of movement. His voice crackled, hitched, and then the screaming continued at an even shriller pitch. He thrashed blindly, and one of the nurses reached out to try and hold him, only to recoil with a curse.  
“He’s burning hot!”   
BT stepped forward to try and restrain the man himself, aware of his superior strength and weight, but as he placed his hands on Jack’s chest, an electric shock blew BT backwards. He landed against the far wall with a crash, vision flickering. The noise around him intensified, and his vision went dark.

BT stood in blackness, watching Jack’s mind tear itself apart from a distance. He could hear the screaming, watched the man spilt himself and multiply, each Jack looking more horrified than the last. He ran, trying to reach them, certain that he could put them back together if he could just get there but the distance was infinite, and he gained no ground no matter how much effort he applied.   
“BT.” The calm, quiet voice was right at his shoulder, and BT turned sharply, startled by the proximity. Jack was there, but this one was sane. There was no screaming, and his eyes were clear. He held a brightly glowing orb in the palm of his hand –a tiny Ark. “You’re more human than me, now,” he said. He was fading around the edges, blurring away as if he had been smudged. BT couldn’t think of what to say. Before he could respond, this Jack raised the hand with the Ark and thurst it into BT’s chest, the white-hot energy disappearing with him. BT blurted out static, alarmed, and toppled backwards.

He reset his vision, sitting up. He was back in ICU and there was bedlam all around him. His processor tumbled as he struggled to take in what was happening, pushing himself up with trembling actuators. There were shouts of panic, and Jack – or whatever Jack had become – was still screaming horribly. A small fire, probably from one of the damaged monitors, had started in one corner, and was burning unaddressed. He staggered forward, ignoring the string of errors popping up. He could see Jack’s body now. It looked as though his bones were glowing under his skin, and ash appeared to be rising from his extremities.   
“Get back!” He shouted as he darted over to the console he had been working at. It had gone into sleep mode and he slapped at the keys, feeling more than a little desperate. Seconds felt like decades, and he glanced back towards the gurney again. He could detect immense heat beginning to radiate from the body, but nobody had moved. “I mean it, get away!” He barked it like an order this time, and several sets of wide, frightened eyes turned his way. “NOW!” At the console, a friendly alert chimed: Process Complete. BT slapped the drive eject command and savagely yanked the freshly written Datacore free, even as he ushered the last few nurses toward the door. “Out out out out!” He repeated, following the last person. Behind him, the screaming noise had stopped, and a searing white light was beginning to burn through the man’s chest. BT slammed the door shut behind him mere milliseconds before ICU exploded.   
The force of the explosion blew the door off its hinges and into BT, tossing him once again. He collided with a thankfully empty gurney, but was able to tuck in and roll without sustaining much damage. He slid to a stop against a counter, and took pause, assessing himself.  
There were system-wide alerts, warning after warning pestering him, but no actual critical damage had been done. He glanced down at the bright blue Datacore he’d been cradling against his chassis. It was intact and glowing softly. He let his whole frame sag as he sat, relieved.   
All around him, people were shouting evacuation orders, and fire claxons were droning. BT climbed to his feet, and assessed the room as a whole. There were a lot of really freaked out people, but nobody seemed to have been hurt. The ICU room was burning, black smoke billowing out of the open doorway, but already the fire suppression crews were rushing in. In minutes, everything was silent once again.   
BT stood his ground, generally ignored by the humans now doing damage control, and tried to assess what had just happened. Horror had crept into his circuits, as the enormity of the event he’d just witnessed dawned on him, as well as the root of the cause. With his free hand, he touched his own chestplate, where dream-Jack had placed the Ark, and feverishly scanned himself, concerned he too may become a walking bomb. He found no signs of the Ark’s energy, however, and BT relaxed, just a little.  
“What the hell did we just see?” The voice, far too close for BT to have not noticed, startled the bot. BT jerked away, turning quickly to fixate on the doctor whom he’d first spoken with hours earlier. The man smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I guess we’re all a little freaked out.” BT said nothing, but unconsciously cradled Jack’s core a little closer to himself. Noticing, the doctor held his hand out. “Let’s see that.” Reluctant, BT handed it over, and the doctor… BT searched his database … Dr. White …examined it.  
“Looks like we got him,” He said, tone somewhat brighter. “We won’t know for sure until we get it installed into a frame, but it looks like you cracked the code.” He was impressed, and looking almost giddy with relief. “If this works, you could save a lot of people, Titan.”   
BT considered this, taken aback. His sole interest had been preserving Jack. He had not considered the future of the Militia at all.   
“I will send you a detailed report of my efforts,” BT said, and Dr. White handed him the Datacore back. A little surprised, BT took it.  
“Excellent. Take this to Engineering, and see what they can cook up as a body for Cooper. Don’t worry about this mess, I’ll handle it from here.” BT nodded, and with a crisp salute, hurried out. 

BT edged into Engineering, wondering if news of what had happened had reached them yet. The lab was quiet, and those inside it were focused on their work. In the far corner, Miss Veauxver looked up, surprised to see him.  
“BT? What’s going on?” She approached him quickly, something about BT giving away…something. “How is Jack?”   
BT couldn’t find the words to explain, and simply held out the Datacore cradled in his palm instead. Abject shock dawned on her expressive face, and she stared from the core to BT, dumbfounded.  
“…Not so good.” BT said at last. “Something happened… The Ark energy…. I can’t explain it.” She frowned, and he added. “ICU has been demolished, but we managed to salvage Cooper’s memories. Hopefully.” Her eyes grew huge with surprise. He refrained from adding the graphic details to what had happened, not wanting to consider them further himself, let alone traumatize someone else with them. She gingerly took the core from BT’s outstretched hand, gazing at it in awe.   
“The first…” She breathed the words.  
“Success, inconclusive,” BT informed, his posture tense. “The theater was in absolute chaos. The upload appears to have been successful but we had no chance to verify integrity.” Mu nodded.  
“I see. Well there’s only one way to find out, now.” She turned the core over in her hands, examining it. “I… you got the last empty frame we had. We’re going to have to build something from scratch. It’ll take time.”   
BT had suspected as much. He nodded rigidly.   
“Understood.” Mu reached up and patted his chest. BT flinched.  
“We’ll get him back, don’t worry.” She said. “Can you entrust this to me?” She held up Jack’s core. “We have storage devices here, I can keep it safe.” BT felt a distinct ache, unwilling to part with what was left of his friend.  
“I would appreciate that,” he said despite himself. “Please keep me duly informed of your progress.” Mu nodded, giving him the same sort of reassuring smile Dr. White had.  
“Of course, BT. We’ll be in touch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOOOOOOOOoooooooohhh god. I feel like a monster for having written this! DX  
> But! Everyone's ok...sort of??? Maybe?  
> I have never in my life written anything this fucking off the wall before. I don't know where it's come from, and it's making me feel a little dirty inside, but there you go. Not all stories are nice ones. I'll make up for it with more fluff later.
> 
> Edit 4/23/17: fixed a bunch of bonehead mistakes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one isn't gross, I promise

               

                BT found himself spending more time in Engineering than not, over the next few weeks.  He was alone without Jack, and had no proper body to serve in, and so he made himself useful where he could.

                Mu let him largely design Jack’s Simulacrum, citing that he knew Jack better than anyone else did.  The notion saddened BT somewhat, the Titan acutely aware that he hardly knew Jack at all. This awareness made him care no less, however, and so he did the best he could, from what little he did know.

                When he wasn’t working with the Engineers, he often pondered that day in the hospital.  More happened in those short minutes than BT could process all at once, and so he poured over the datalogs over and over again, desperate for some sort of understanding.  He had long since turned in his report both on his breakthroughs in copying Jack’s memories over to data, but also on what he had seen and experienced.

                Mostly. There had been one very large detail he had deliberately omitted.   Whatever had happened between Jack and he, in that moment outside reality, BT had no explanation for.   During that time, his data recorder only showed inaction as his systems had rebooted after the shock of power they had suffered, and video/audio had only presented the same view of the ICU. There was no evidence at all that anything out of the ordinary had happened, except that BT remembered it, and the event _had_ changed him. 

                He had concluded that whatever approached him in Jack’s mind had _not_ been Jack, but something far from him, older than either Pilot or Titan could comprehend, and far more powerful.  It had reached out to BT with its power, and _touched_ him.  The transformation had been instant, though it took BT some time to realize it, and the metamorphosis hadn’t yet completed. 

                Though it certainly made for good fiction, he knew that out-of-body experiences, alien power sources altering his processors, and Titans suddenly _feeling,_ comprehensively, the full gamut of emotions, had no place in military reports.  Pragmatism was in his core programming, but he still struggled to come to terms with what happened.

                “BT?”  BT looked up, alarmed.  Mu was staring at him curiously, one eyebrow arched. He stared back, certain he had just missed something, and he couldn’t figure out what.  She smirked. “You’ve soldered your finger to the table,” She pointed out. BT glanced down, horrified. “Distracted?” She asked, reaching over with a tool to help separate his hand from the bench. His hand free once more, BT bitterly filed way the rough edge he had created, chagrined.

                “That would be highly abnormal.” He stated in his best robot-voice.  She wasn’t convinced.

                “Sounds familiar.” She took the soldering iron out of his hands, setting it aside. “You’ve been pretty tight-lipped about what happened, but nobody else has,” She went on. “I’m not going to presume what happened to you, but I know your base programming has changed – dramatically.”  BT felt his systems tach up, battle computer starting to spit out scenarios regarding his fate.  “All for the better, I think,” She added, flicking the armor on his shoulder with a clang.  “You’re the bridge between humanity and robotics that Jack will desperately be needing. Real soon.” She nudged him again when he didn’t look at her, and took the part she’d asked him to repair away. “Quit fiddling with that and come over here. It’s time.”

                BT had to clamp down hard on the excited thrill that shook through him as he all-too-eagerly trotted after the little woman. On the same bench he himself had lain only a few weeks prior, Jack’s new body now waited.  BT had designed the Simulacrum to be as humanoid in shape as he could, hoping to spare Jack of some of the frightened, mistrustful looks he had been receiving in the Stalker frame. He knew, ultimately, that Jack would always be a frightening thing to his fellows now but he couldn’t help but attempt to mitigate the damage, regardless. He had hoped to do more, but resources were scarce. For now, at least, they had to make-do.

                “Here goes…” Mu muttered, carefully inserting the core into the new frame and flipping a few switches behind a panel in the chest. The frame tensed, power entering it, and the bio lights illuminated. Almost immediately, every light in the lab went black.  Somewhere in the room, there was a sharp _pop!_ as a circuit breaker blew. One of the techs let out a startled yelp. Mu threw the screwdriver she had opened the access panel with. “Damnit!” BT illuminated the floodlights mounted on his shoulder in silence, not remarkably surprised that they had toasted the circuit dumping all that power at once. “Marcus, go get that breaker reset,” Mu ordered, huffing. “I’m sorry, BT. Looks like we have to go the long way.” She marched up to a nearby locker and dragged out a huge, _ancient_ , petroleum powered generator.  It had a pull-start ignition and she was yanking on the cable ferociously, trying to get it to turn over.  The generator, however, was clearly built for a larger person, and she couldn’t get a full extension on the cord.  BT padded up and relieved her, managing to crank it over in the first pull. She scowled at him in a good natured sort of way, mouthing a ‘thanks’ to him over the deafening roar of the old combustion engine.  Around them, the lights came on, followed rapidly by a series of ventilation fans, working on overdrive to suck out the carbon monoxide the generator emitted.  BT set up a routine scan to check the CO levels in the room every few minutes, and then helped her transfer over all the power lines connected to Jack’s new body. After a few minutes of work, everything had been transferred to the generator, and Mu threw herself into a nearby chair, looking winded.   BT hovered near the work table.

                “You might as well get comfortable, Bud.” Mu said. “This is going to take a while.” She stood again, heaving a sigh, and looked over at BT, who had not moved a single gyro.  She laughed a little to herself, and slid her newly vacated seat his way. “Have a seat, then.” She said, more than aware that he wouldn’t budge otherwise.

               

                BT sat unmoving, and waited.  The day transpired without him, and he became a part of the scenery.  The crew finished their work and left. Someone shut off the lights as they went.  The door was locked.  BT remained by Jack’s side, and found his processor tripping back over the same unresolved issues.  He would never know whether the Ark had changed him intentionally, or by accident, but the gift had been a dubious one.  He _felt_. Everything.   He felt the ferocious protectiveness of Jack, which he’d known was there, fundamentally, but was finally experiencing first-hand.  He felt anxiety at his friends’ tentative grasp on life.

                He felt guilt, like a landslide, nearly burying him.  Inadvertent, and well-meaning though he had been, BT was starkly aware that he had lead Jack straight to a demise far more gruesome than anything BT thought possible.  The uncertainty shook him to the core, and he felt his purpose compromised as he tumbled down the black hole of second-guessing his every decision.

                Even now, he wondered: what if Jack would have rather died than be turned into a second-rate replica – because that’s what the name _Simulacrum_ meant, wasn’t it, BT? – and BT had gone and made a life-altering decision for the man without his input.  But what if he hadn’t? Jack would have perished. Horribly, and painfully. Forever.  BT thought – _hoped_ \- Jack would choose life.

                What would Jack think of all this, anyway? Would he blame BT? Hold it against him?  BT had one friend in this world, and he was finally capable of _caring_ , deeply, the way he ought to, and there was a good chance that once Jack came to, it would all be gone. 

                BT shuddered, wrapping his arms around his chassis to hug himself, as he’d seen some humans do. It didn’t help, and he felt pathetic for it. Uncertainty continued to plague him through the darkest hours of the night.  What if he rendered himself unable to fight?  A month ago, he had valued one life, and one life only: The Pilot, and that had been enough. He saw the world, now, through mortal eyes, and _understood_.  They all mattered, and even the enemy fought for something they believed in; that to them, _he_ was the bad guy. Everywhere he looked, he saw monsters where people had been.  A sound alarmingly like a sob escaped his vocalizer.  He was horrified at how ugly the world was, how ugly he was. It was all so confusing.  

                Beside where he sat at the console, there was a single beep.  Pulled from his spiraling thoughts, BT straightened up and had a look, glad for the distraction.  The uplink was complete.  He ran one last diagnostic on Cooper’s systems, just to be sure. Everything was in its place and assembly-line fresh.  He kicked off the rumbling generator, triggered the initialization process, and stood back.

                The Simulacrum shuddered, and slowly sat up, bio lights and optic illuminating slowly. The rectangular head canted down, as both hands raised up, turning over as it examined itself.  It issued a horrified scream, and collapsed backwards, offline. 

                BT recoiled, stunned.  Perhaps he should have expected that, considering what Jack’s last memories might be.  He pulled himself back together, and went back to the console.  He was relieved to see everything was normal, aside from the unscheduled shut-down.  Someone was in there.   Someone was having a really rough day.  BT pondered what he could do for Jack, staring down through the darkness at the figure on the table.  He wondered how safe it was, but he had a plan.  Moving swiftly to a nearby cabinet, he collected a patch cable, and returned with it to Jack’s side.  He removed an access panel, careful not to scratch or gouge the new metal, and inserted the cable into one of the number of ports available.  It was a little tougher to remove the same panel on himself, but he managed, eventually getting his end of the cable connected as well.  He steeled himself, and reinitialized the boot sequence.

 

                “ _Cooper…_ ” Jack could hear BT’s voice, but looking around, all he saw was white.  It hurt his eyes, and he clamped them shut. 

                “BT?”  The words croaked out of his dry throat. “Where are you?”  His head swam. It was hard to focus on anything.  Jack was barely able to string together the words to call out.

                “ _I am here.  Do not be afraid._ ”

                ”Afraid?”

                _“A lot has happened, Jack.”_

                “Typhon?”  He paused. “Are we dead?”

                “ _Nearly. But no. Sort of._ ”  BT’s voice had grown closer, and there was a hand on his shoulder.  Jack turned to look.  BT was blurred, as if two images were overlaid one upon the other.  He was both his old self as Jack remembered….but also a Stalker. Jack recoiled. “New chassis,” BT explained, and the Stalker-BT solidified.  “I assure you, I am the same old Titan you remember.”  Jack was suspicious, but compelled to believe him.

                “What’s going on…?”  He looked all around but saw nothing. “Where are we?”

                “What do you remember, after returning to Harmony?” BT asked, not answering him directly.

                “Veauxver had just finished installing you into a new chassis…Oh.” He had forgotten. “And then…” he jolted, looking up at BT in alarm as the memories came flooding back. “BT…what happened to me??” 

                “You…are not the only one with a new chassis, Jack.” BT said slowly. Jack frowned, confused.

                “What?”

                “Your body was contaminated with the Ark’s energy… It destroyed you.  We were, however, able to preserve you – your memories.” Jack was speechless, stunned.  “You and I…have much more in common now,” BT finished.   Jack staggered back, trying to take in the Titan’s words. His mind spun wildly, and he struggled to remain calm.  A memory flashed through him: A feeling of wrongness, looking down and seeing strange, mechanical hands where he had expected to see flesh… He shuddered, and BT gripped his shoulders with both hands.   The touch helped ground him.  

                “So…where are we?” He asked tentatively. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

                “Inside your processor, I suppose,” BT said.  “You suffered a crash on initialization – I believe the shock may have been too much, so I hardlined myself to you prior to rebooting your systems so that I might-“

                “Break it to me gently.” Jack finished for him.

                “Indeed.”  BT grew silent for a long pause, turning away slightly with his head hung.  “I am sorry, if these solutions are unsatisfactory for you.  A number of decisions were made in short order, with insufficient data.” He paused, shuffling with anxiety.  “I could not stand to lose you.”

                “You… you did this?” Jack asked, awestruck. He was certainly not angry, if BT had just saved his life _again_.

                “Essentially.  The Militia lacks the equipment in their medical facilities to facilitate this kind of data transfer on its own.  Jointly, with the systems already in place, we were able to preserve you.” His optic flickered. “Congratulations, you are the first successful Simulacrum the Militia has produced.”  

                Jack let out a bemused little snort.

                “Thanks, I think.”

                BT released his grip on Jack’s shoulders, stepping back. 

                “I’m going to complete your initial bootup now,” he said gently. “I’ve warned you as best I can, but this still may be a bit of a shock…”

                Jack nodded. 

                “I’m ready.”

 

                Jack sat up, the world around him coming into astoundingly sharp focus, all at once.  He cringed, trying to clamp his eyes shut, but he had no eyelids, let alone eyes…or anything else.  BT had been right. It was a terrible shock, staring down at the joints of metal hands, and the rigging showing through the plating protecting his knees.  He was not ready.

                “Oh god…” His voice, at least, was his own, albeit somewhat metallic.  He would learn later that BT had taken extra care to make sure the tone was modulated as close to the original as possible.

                “Easy, Jack.” BT’s voice rumbled by his side, calm and reassuring.  “Take your time, we are in no hurry.” Jack shuddered, his new metal body rattling. 

                “This is…”  His mind cartwheeled as too much information came barreling in too quickly.  He did not see or hear as he once had. Everything was accentuated into sharp relief.  He trembled, overwhelmed. “Really…f-f-f-f-ffreaky.” His voice glitched slightly, causing him to stutter. He drew up rigidly, alarmed.

                “An emotional tic. You’ll be alright.  Find something to focus on.”  BT’s voice was soft, and he reached out and grasped one of Jack’s new hands in his own, and gently tapped on the plating at the back of it.  The rhythmic _tap tap tap_ resonated through Jack, sending steady signals, and his gaze fixed on the subtle movement of BT’s fingertip.  The hysteria faded into background noise.  Jack pulled his hand away slowly, and carefully turned to look at the other bot.

                “How…” He paused, the sound filled with static. He thought about clearing his throat, and when he tried again, his voice was clear. “How did you know that would help?”

                “You’re not the only one the Ark changed.” BT said, and his tone was somber.  Jack tilted his head, searching the other for any sign of what he meant.

                “Oh! Well I’ll be dipped!”  Jack turned, alarmed, as Mu Veauxver interrupted them as she arrived for the morning shift.  “You’re up early!”    Her smile turned crooked. “All thanks to BT, yanno. He saved you.”

                “So I’ve been told,” Jack responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there...that's a little easier to take, right??? 
> 
> EDIT: OK, made this the end of this one, but there's going to be a Part 2 in a separate when I get the chance to grind it out. :) Probably bring back my old favorite ship *cough* for that bit and leave this one neutral. (because not everyone is into it, I know)
> 
> Mu is an old OC/Mechwarrior themed D&D character I cooked up years ago, and a sort of go-to character for me, but I've never inserted her into a fic. This one, I realized, is entirely inappropriate for introducing her, but here she is. (And if you're not thinking her name is a terrible, terrible series of puns, you're probably not pronouncing it right)
> 
> 4/18/17: Caught myself scratching at my arms yesterday and had a serious case of the willies after accidentally imagining tearing my skin off >.< IDK if it's good or bad writing if the writer has given herself a hardcore case of the willies also... >.>  
> Edit 4/23/17: fixed a couple of mistakes.

**Author's Note:**

> I want you all to know I'm super squeemish and this was really difficult to write, and plays specifically on a lot of things that really disturb me which is probably why it's starting off so slow.  
> Also, no, I'm not going to tell you what's going on. Wait for CH 2


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